A Flying Thought Poem by Chloe Lubinska

Sometimes I catch myself wondering
The plots and twists of day
The murmuring of butterflies
And of them needless to say
I wonder what a butterfly feels
The batting of their padded wings
The food they eat, the friends they greet
The melted pollen and golden streams
I think of humanoids, and their thirst for nectar
Their sweet, not sour powdered lecture

Their unobtainable optimum full
Unity's affirmed challenge: An inhibition to savour
But no, alternative bleak orbs devour the flavour
A substantial bluff seals the deal
On chancing desolation
When the flying danger zone directs it's acute omen
The fleeting feather ceases to indicate the cringing expression
That should be present.
But I guess that's how they gunned pheasants
Their concerned fear, idealising a wolves' fantasy
Only that although they need to survive, mimicking
Their hunter's voice
Heel back, we're human
And we have choice

Sometimes I catch myself wondering
The black void that twists our day
The denatured bridgework we catch ourselves in
Sprouting flowers, and climbing ivy
Only one day to find out it's fangs that keep us from falling
Not bricks, no work
Just malicious deeds, watchful glares that evade mud and murk

Sometimes I catch myself wondering
The butterfly's journey to sleep
Their fist glimpsing hours
To the decline of dusty wings
Juxtaposes our gleeful loathing
Are we like butterflies?
Or just wolves in sheep's clothing?